A Rose By Any Other Name
by LirielLee
Summary: More than anything, Mary Lennox fears becoming a selfish, vain, empty-headed creature like her mother. To prevent this she runs away from her schooling in London to join the war effort. Her thoughts linger on her boys, Colin at school and Dickon called up to war himself and her secret garden. Life brings painful lessons and sometimes it brings exactly what we want most.
1. Chapter 1

I have had this story in mind for awhile now, I have 7 chapters partially written and ideas for several after that. So I do have an end for this and will get there eventually, but for now my Merlin story is my main focus when I have time to write, so I'll fit this in when I can. I love the book and this is what I envision for the years after it ends.

I don't own anything because I am not as awesome as Francis Hodgson Burnett.

**A Rose By Any Other Name**

Chapter 1: The Letter

_Dear Uncle Archie and Colin,_

_I am sorry to have to do this to the two of you. You know I love you both very much, you are my only family and you gave me the only loving home I have ever known. I greatly regret that what I am about to do will hurt you both, but I must follow my own path._

_I am going to join the war effort. I can no longer sit by and study deportment and art and pretend that there is not a greater world out there. The Glittering world of society that you keep pushing me to accept will never make me happy. I want to be of use to the world, not just be another pretty face in a new gown._

_I will write to you when I can, but for obvious reasons I cannot give you an address to write to me. I am so sorry to grieve you, please try not to worry overly, I will be as safe as I can be. I feel this is something I must do, please try to understand._

_I love you both,_

_Mary Lennox_

And so Mary Lennox left behind the London she despised and the moors she loved to serve in the war effort. As she had excelled at studying French in school she was able to convince the young secretary at the Red Cross office that she was a French orphan who had been sent to London before the war to study. She lied about her age and gave her name as Marie Girard. The Great War had been going on for more than two years by that time and those in the medical field were in great need, Mary was accepted into the Red Cross as a Nurses Aid without any questions about her background and was quickly sent out for the minimal training she would be given before being sent to a medical facility.


	2. Chapter 2: Another Day Done

Mary tried to roll the tension out of her shoulders as she finished another shift. She was tired and had seen things now that would haunt her forever, but she had never regretted her decision to run away and join the Red Cross nurses. Whenever she became overwhelmed by the suffering around her she would distract herself with memories. Sometimes she thought of her time in London, the tedious balls, the shallow gossip of the other girls, the arrogance of the upperclass boys living off of their names. Remembering her disgust with that life reaffirmed her decision to find a true purpose in her own life and not just become what her mother had been; a beautiful refined creature too selfish with thoughts of balls and dresses to care about her only child.

Other times she simply remembered the secret garden and her happy times there with Dickon and Colin. When she was surrounded by the smells of blood and disinfectants it was difficult to recall the scent of the roses in bloom and the moist soil as she weeded. Although the scents were a vague memory now, she could still clearly see the garden in her mind. The ivy covered walls, the lilies and roses, the purple crocuses that signaled the arrival of spring, the old swing swaying in the breeze. Yes, she could envision it all, even the three children who had filled its walls with laughter. Oh, how she missed them.

Thoughts of her two boys always brought tears to her eyes, although she would never let them fall. She had made her decision and she would not regret it. Still, she wished there was a way to talk to them both, she longed to know how they were doing.

She and Colin had been at different schools in London, but they had always found time to get together and the two were more like brother and sister than cousins. Mary knew it had hurt Colin dreadfully when she had disappeared, still she knew he would understand her need to act and not just become another society girl. He had his schooling and his father to keep him in place. While Mary enjoyed reading and learning, she had never like school and the restrictions that came with it. Proper education for a girl was so much more confining than the choices offered to the boys. Colin loved school and would surely continue on to a university and someday inherit his father's title and all that came with it. She knew he would use it all for the good of those around him, he would have the means to act in the manner he wished. Mary thought of her own inheritance in trust in a London bank and knew that she was able to do so much more good out here on the lines than if she had stayed and did what proper young ladies were expected to do; namely marry a rich young man and maybe support a charity or two with the occasional fundraiser.

The sight of another soldier being carried in the doors as she walked out to go to her room made her think of her other boy. Dickon, sweet happy Dickon. She sighed. It was impossible to lie to herself that thoughts of Dickon had not influenced her decision to be here. She had been informed when he had been called up but had not been able to return to Misselthwaite in time to see him again. Her heart ached at the thought of Dickon lying in the trenches feeling so far away from the moors he loved. He would be brave and strong she knew, but she wondered if his sweet heart would survive this kind of constant attack. She loved him, she had loved him since she was ten, before she even knew what love was. When she had been sent away to school she had been sad to leave the garden and the moor, but she had known she would see them again, that they would still be there when she came back. She had been terrified of leaving Dickon because there was no guarantee that he would be. At thirteen she had just been starting to understand that the love she felt for Dickon was not like the love she felt for her uncle or her cousin. She had been vaguely aware that her leaving for school meant nothing would ever be the same between them. By the time she returned she would be seventeen and he would be nineteen, no longer carefree children. She would be expected to be a proper young lady and find a husband and he may have already found a country girl to love and raise a family with. She could never begrudge him this happiness if he had found it, but she knew her own heart would never move on. She had met no men in society to compare to him; his honesty, his compassion, his cheerfulness had been the ideal she would hold all other men to.

"How was the ward tonight?" her friend Becky asked as she entered their dorm room.

"Eet vas quiet", she answered with a smile. Nine months into her time her Marie persona was so ingrained now that she didn't even have to think about answering with the correct French accent, it just happened automatically. Still afraid that Colin or her uncle would be trying to find her and drag her home she had decided to just keep the name and accent that she had used to enlist. Sometimes she amused herself by imagining everyone's reactions if she suddenly started speaking Yorkshire instead of French. Ah well, at least her forced time in school had given her the means to escape detection as Mary Lennox. Although she doubted that this was the type of trip to France her teacher had expected the lessons to be used for.

The thought made Mary smile as she slipped into her cold narrow bed. A few hours of sleep and then she would be back on the ward.


	3. Chapter 3: Awake

**Chapter 3: Awake**

Dickon regained consciousness slowly, gradually becoming aware that the sounds around him were not the sounds of the trench that he had been used to for so long now. He could hear low voices and soft moans of pain, not the crash of mortar and the echo of screams that he last remembered. He felt fuzzy and lost, where was he exactly? Recognizing that he was close to panicking, he forced himself to take several deep breaths and keep still.

He tried to open his eyes to view his surroundings and found that he couldn't push them open, the world was completely dark. This relevation let to another round of mental panic, but again after a few minutes he was able to gain control of himself. If he couldn't use his eyes he would simply have to use his other senses.

Dickon took another deep breath and focused to the scents the breath brought in him. He could smell alcohol and antiseptic, blood and death. The two were familiar scents from the trenches, but he didn't smell the muddy earth and smoke from mortar and artillery.

He moved his fingers slightly and felt a coarse material under them and recognized that he was laying down on something semi soft, so a blanket and bed maybe. Gaining confidence he continued to move his hands over his body, carefully noticing bandages and twinges of pain that hinted at multiple injuries. Finally he let his hands move up to his eyes and found them covered in thick gauze pads, he let out a relieved sigh. At least he knew why he couldn't see or open his eyes right now, he had sustained some kind of injury to his face and eyes. The fear that he might be truly blind was still with him, but there was hope now that it was only temporary.

Dickon let himself relax , so he was injured but had been treated and … he must be in one of the makeshift hospitals that hovered near the front lines.

Footsteps approached and he heard a reassuringly clipped English tone address him.

"So Private, awake at last."

"Yes, ma'am," was his hesitant reply.

He listened intently as she gave him a run-down of his injuries while checking his bandages.

"The doctor's aren't positive yet how bad the damage is to your eyes, but everything else is healing fairly well. We will check your eyes in a few days and if you can at that time then eventually you'll be sent to the recovery ward."

Dickon flinched at the casual way the nurse spoke of the uncertainty of his ever seeing again. As she walked away he lost himself in the memories of the beautiful sights of life that he might never see again.

A few days later his body was starting to feel better, his injuries were healing and he was more rested than he had been any time in recent memory. The doctor had chosen not to check his eyes yet, wanting them to have a few more days without any stress, but Dickon felt he was starting to adjust to only using his other sense to know what was going on around him.

He mostly ignored the talk of the other recuperating soldiers around him, choosing to live in his memories and thoughts for now, they were a happier place than anything else around him. Still, it wasn't always possible to block out the sounds of pain and death around him and his new bed neighbor was quite a loud complainer.

"Ain't this ward quiet," the boy began his next rant of the day.

"I wouldna know," Dickon answered. "Tis the only one I've been in."

"I just came to this one after I needed another surgery, before I was in the upper ward and boy did we have a good time there, this one seems too depressin to me. I know this is where we're supposed to recover and all before we're well enough to move up, but I gotta say it's too dull here to push a man to get better."

Dickon made a noncommittal sound, doubting it was very different between any of the wards, all full of soldiers injured in body, mind and soul and just waiting to be well enough to be sent back to the trenches or waiting to die.

"And the nurses on this ward," the boy continued, "they can't compare to the angel up there."

"Ah, you'd be talking about Marie," another soldier commented from across from Dickon.

Dickon cocked his head in curiosity, he hadn't heard any mention of a Marie before, but then he had to admit that he barely noticed the nurses at all, too lost in his own thoughts and memories.

"You've seen her too then?"

"Aye, little French girl that was educated in London. She's a beauty all right, I think almost every man that comes thru that ward has proposed marriage to her."

Dickon drifted back out of the conversation, there was only one girl that he thought of anymore. Mary Lennox would be a beautiful young woman now he knew. He tried to imagine what she would look like, but the picture in his head was still the energetic 13 year old that he had last seen before she was sent to London for school. Golden hair gleamed in the summer sun as they worked together in the garden that last week before she left. He remembered the hot tears she had cried when she found out that she was to be sent away and her plea to Dickon that he would care for their garden while she was gone. It had been that last week together in the garden when Dickon had realized that he loved her. The knowledge of her departure had shaken him more than he could understand; but watching her kiss her roses goodbye with tears falling from her light-filled hazel eyes, her light curls brushing against the flowers as she leaned over them, he finally knew. He understood then why her leaving was so different for him than Colin's had been the previous year. He loved her, her sweetness, her fire, her overwhelming passion to hold onto and protect what she loved. He loved her with all the innocence of a young love and he had faithfully kept his promise to care for the garden until the day he had left to go to France.

He realized that she would be seventeen now and done with her education. Even now she might be back at Misslethwaite and would see that he had broken his promise, the garden had been left alone for over a year now and that broken promise was just another hurt now to add to his time in the trenches. She would not blame him of course, but still he felt he had let her down.


	4. Chapter 4: A Sound Like Any Other

Just a short chapter this time, but don't worry we're getting closer to the action of the story. Also, I can't write Yorkshire, so please forgive my poor attempt at it, I simply try my best.

**Chapter 4: A Sound Like Any Other**

Another day passed filled with anxious thoughts and more prodding by the nurses and doctor. With a resigned sight Dickon sat himself up in his bed and waited for the lastest report from the nurse on how his healing was progressing. The doctor had checked his eyes and then replaced the guaze over them. He had looked under all of the bandages and had seen no sign of infection and so everything was cleaned and rewrapped and the doctor had given the nurse his notes before moving on the next patient.

"You're recovery is progressing nicely Private," the nurse informed him. "Your arm is setting properly and the gashes from the shrapnel are not infected and are almost fully healed. The Doctor thinks you should be able to start taking the bandage over your eyes off for a several hours a day in a few days to slowly let them readjust to the light. I would think that you will be moved to the upper ward by next week."

He nodded to her and heard her move on to the next bed. He reveled at the thought of being able to take the bandages off finally and was more grateful than he knew how to express that his eyes were not permanently damaged. When he had first realized he couldn't see after the explosion his thoughts had been on the sights he would never be able to see again, namely his beloved moors and the garden in summer. And, he admitted to himself, the sight of Mary. If he lived through this he had always expected that he would at least be able to see her again. He couldn't know how she had changed over the years, maybe she wouldn't want to see a poor moor boy anymore or maybe she would be with some rich lord, but at least he would be able to see the woman she had become.

He had no delusions that that would be happening any time soon. If the doctors thought he could be healed up in less than two months he would be treated and sent back out to the trenches. Only more serious injuries that warranted months or years of healing were enough to send a soldier home now that the war had been dragging on for over three years.

The sound of excited hellos called him back to the ward. He could hear a number of the injured men calling out to someone that must have just entered.

"Marie, I've missed you so."

"Marie, over here, do you remember me?"

"Marie, how about a game of chess?"

"Marie, are they moving you up here or are you just visiting?"

"Marie, Bobby told me all about you and I'm thrilled to finally meet you."

Dickon heard a beautiful voice with a French accent answer all of the calls as she moved around the room. "Ah, so this is the lovely Marie that I keep hearing of" Dickon thought with a chuckle. He was able to pinpoint where she was in the room by the excited voices that seemed to follow her. He leaned back in his bed already drifting back to his dreams when he heard one soldier tell her that he was thinking of coming up with new symptoms for the doctor so that he would never have to leave her.

The girl laughed in response, a pure sparkling sound that had Dickon jolting upright with a gasp. Before he could register a conscious thought he heard the doctor calling imperiously for the aide and her accented answer moving further away.

"It couldna be," he moaned to himself. "She's na here, she's a proper English lady now, not some French nurses aid." He continued to explain to himself that he hadn't heard what he thought he had, that it was just a foolish reaction because of his daydreams. It was just that he wanted to hear the sound so badly that he made himself imagine it. Yes, that must be it; that was the only reasonable explanation because otherwise he would not have just heard Miss Mary's laugh.


	5. Chapter 5: One More Day

_I apologize my patient readers. I am so sorry that this has taken me so long to get back to. I had hoped I would have more time over summer to write and instead I barely had time to breathe and my fall was even crazier. Never fear tho, I have not abandoned this story and I have several more chapters partially written so the reveal and action are coming up next. _

_On a story note, I cannot "write" a French accent, I'm awful at it and I will not subject you to it. So anytime the response is said by **Marie** instead of **Mary**, just assume that she is speaking with her French accent and not her normal English tone. Also, when I finished this chapter I suddenly felt that it was really boring but that might be because I am anxious to get to the chapter I know is coming next. If it is boring, I apologize and rest assured that the next chapter will have the meeting we have all been waiting for. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading._

"Are you ready to go Marie?" Becky asked

"Oui" Marie replied as she stuck a final pin into her simple twist to hold it in place for the shift ahead of her.

The two girls chattered casually as they walked over to the makeshift hospital. Mary had found a good friend in Becky and often wondered if she should tell the other girl the truth about who she was.

"The line hasn't moved in weeks," Becky said as she looked over the hills to where they both knew the front line was located several miles away.

"Oui, sank goodness. Everytime sey attempt it we have so many more soldiers to tend."

"I know," Becky nodded. "And they run the risk of losing the line and being forced back again. It frightens me so when the line gets closer to us. Remember the sound of the explosions last time? I was terrified the hospital would be blown up around us as we worked."

Mary didn't respond, her eyes scanned the horizon as well and was grateful that things seemed calm for the moment. There was no denying that she was just as afraid of the fighting spilling into the hospital as everyone else, but she was determined to be brave and stand her ground if need be.

Her and Becky hurried in to their ward and began their duties for the day. Mary spent the next hours assisting in cleaning out wounds, delivering food, and generally doing whatever she could to help the wounded soldiers heal in body and mind. She read them books, told stories, sang, helped them write letters, played chess or cards, soothed and encouraged in any way she could.

At the end of her shift she was holding an older soldiers' hand as she hummed softly to help him fall asleep. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a nurse lead a new patient onto the ward and glance around for one of the aids. Mary was just wondering if she should get up and help when she saw Amy from the next shift walk over and take the soldier and lead him to a bed. She went back to her soft humming until she was sure his breathing was smooth and relaxed. She stood quietly and tried to roll out the tightness in her neck as she looked around to catch Becky's eyes and motion to the clock. Becky noticed the time and nodded, they both began moving to the door, their shift done for the day.

Soldiers called good-bye as they left and Mary gave soft words of support to several as she passed them. She could see by the look in their eyes when she spent time with them that she was helping, was making the difference she had hoped she could some day, but it never seemed enough. These men, some of them really only boys, were being broken down by this war and what it was making of them. They were forced to kill, forced to watch fellow soldiers die around them and often wait impotently to see if this was the day they too would be killed. Viewing their strength, their determination to get well in order to go back to the lines to help friends that were still there, Mary felt humbled to play a part in their lives, however small it may be. She only wished she could do more.

"Oh, my arms ache," Becky muttered to Mary as they stepped out the door into the dusky evening.

Mary nodded her agreement, while her current shift had her on the recovery ward for those soon to be released instead of the surgery or the critical ward, there was still plenty of wounds to tend to and cleaning to be done along with helping the soldiers in any way she could. With a mental chuckle she tried to imagine the spoiled frail little girl she had been before Misselthwaite and the garden doing the work she did now. Or even better, one of the pretty insipid society creatures she had gone to school with, that image was so funny she nearly laughed out loud. No matter how her body ached with the work she was doing, she reminded herself to relish the pain because it was proof that she was doing something worthwhile with her life.

"Wha was that smirk for, I'd like to know?" Becky teased Mary, having seen the silent laugh she had tried to hide.

"I was just imagining the delicate society girls of London trying a shift at the hospital," Marie answered, giggling at the thought again.

Becky joined in with the laughter, "Aye, that would be a sight for sure. We'd be kept busy catching the poor frail creatures as they fainted at every sight of blood and not a thing would get done."

"It would do some of them some good, I think, to see what happens in the world outside of their drawing rooms." Marie replied, thinking of the many girls she had known who had no thought for anyone else's suffering or hardships.

"You simply can't expect much from ladies like that," Becky shrugged. "They weren't raised to do any actual work or endure any strain. Pretty little captive birds they are, with not a though in their heads as to what it takes us free birds to survive in the world."

Mary glanced at Becky, impressed by both the thought and that Becky could see beyond the glittery life of ease that was all most working class girls saw when they glimpsed a pretty young debutante in her fine gown and jewels.

"You're quite right, I suppose. They have their charity balls and raise funds for the war effort but I wonder how much they really think about the war and those fighting in it. Even with the war going on for two years now, I very much doubt most of them have had to deal with any real hardship. The food rationing that is so devastating to the poor is unlikely to affect the wealthy and I do not think that the news they read of the front, if they read about it at all, is any way accurate to make them cognizant of the true horrors that the soldiers are experiencing. Likely their bitterest complaint is of the lack of dancing partners at their balls as so many of the young men are gone now." Though she had started calmly, Marie's voice had risen during her rant and she ended sounding a great deal like the tempestuous Mary of her childhood.

At Becky's startled look, Mary realized she may have allowed too much of her dislike of the "pretty little birds" to come through. Cursing her emotional outburst, Mary cast about her mind for a way to deflect the curiosity she could see brewing in Becky's eyes. She supposed that she could simply tell her friend the truth and hope Becky would keep her secret. It would be far simpler than making up a back story to tell Becky and hope it didn't contradict anything she may have said previously… and really, it might be nice to have someone to confide in finally and be herself with.

Before she could make a decision or Becky could ask any questions, the pair were interrupted by an older, weary looking woman. "Ah, Marie, there you are. I tried to catch you while you were still on shift, but I was told I had just missed you."

"Yes, we were just heading back to the dormitory. Is there something you needed Mrs. Milner?" Marie questioned the head nurse.

"I was hoping you would be amenable to moving your shifts to the surgery for the next few days. We have had a number of wounded pouring in lately due to the latest troop offensive and the poor girls there are quite overwhelmed. I heard that you had done a commendable job the last time you were there and I need a good steady girl to help them out."

"Of course, Mrs. Milner," Marie answered, pleased to have been noticed for her hard work. "I can report there first thing in the morning."

"Thank you Marie… both of you," the older woman turned tired but warm smiles on both girls. "I often feel as though having young ladies such as yourselves serving on the front lines is something nearly unforgivable of those of us in charge, but your help is sorely needed and never doubt that your work is greatly appreciated. We could not save nearly as many of our countrymen as we do without your sacrifice." She gave them each another proud look and a gentle smile before she turned to head back to the hospital.

Becky and Mary watched the older woman leave before giving each other bashful grins at the praise they had received. Their previous discussion was forgotten in the glow of being given sincere compliments from a woman they both admired and respected.

"Well, I guess I better get a good night's sleep to be ready for surgery tomorrow," Marie commented as she turned back towards the make-shift dormitory.

"We'll both need a restful night, you may have to be in the surgery, but I will have to break all those men's hearts when they learn their precious Marie won't be there to see them tomorrow," Becky teased as they resumed their walk. "It's really quite damaging to my self-esteem I'll have you know, to see the disappointment in a soldier's eyes when he sees me come to take care of him instead of you," and she pouted dramatically at her friend.

Mary laughed with her and linked arms as they approached their building. She really had found a good friend in Becky.

* * *

"Hello Bridget, what do we have here?" Dickon heard a soft voice ask from several steps in front of him. He did his best not to let his body tense at the unexpected sound, there were too many other noises around for him to have heard the light footsteps approaching and he truly disliked not being able to see what was coming his way.

The nurse who had been guiding him, squeezed his arm reassuringly as she answered the new voice. "This is Private Sowerby and he'll be joining your ward today to have the bandages around his eyes taken off so he can finish his recuperation. Private this is Amy and she'll remove your bandages and get you settled in." She squeezed his arm again before passing his hand to Amy and then because he was listening for it, he could hear her footsteps walking away as she left.

"Well then Private, I've got an empty bed over here in the corner where it won't be too bright for your eyes as they readjust to the light," the new voice, Amy he supposed, said calmly as she gently led him across the ward.

Dickon blinked owlishly at a round-faced brunette as his eyes were uncovered and then he followed her instructions as she checked his injuries. After confirming that his eyes were tracking movement and that the light wasn't causing any pain she left him to rest as he observed the new ward. As it was evening, most of the beds were filled with soldiers settling in for the night. The soldiers in this ward were nearly ready to head back to duty and so they were much more mobile and active than his previous room. There were small groups of men chatting or playing card games and the nurses and aides passed among them handing out medications or fresh bandages and generally doing their best to lift the men's spirits.

Dickon sighed as he settled in against his pillow, he knew he would only need a few more days to recover enough to be sent back to the trenches. If only this blasted war would end. He could no longer see a future for himself outside of the blood and mud and sounds of death that haunted his dreams. Misselthwaite and his golden Mary seemed like a life that had belonged to someone else and he was starting to doubt that he would ever see either one again.


	6. Not a chapter

Hello to my wonderful readers. This is not another chapter, sorry to disappoint. For anyone interested I wanted to give a brief history of when this story is set as I did actually plan it with what was going on historically at the time, if that doesn't interest you than by all means skip this and carry on when the next chapter comes up.

Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote "The Secret Garden" in 1910, although it was published in 1911. In the book Mary and Colin are 10 and Dickon is 12. For my story it is now 1916 and Mary and Colin are 16 and Dickon is 18, he would have been recruited for the war effort as soon as he was of age.

Great Britain declared war in August of 1914 and most thought the war would be over by Thanksgiving. Many months and thousands of deaths later it became very clear that the new modern warfare would be anything but short. By 1916, when I have set my story, the war has been going on for 2 years and the military is desperate for new recruits, taking boys as soon as they were of age and sending them with little or no training to the fronts.

In the previous chapter Mary mentions food rationing. The government began the rationing of food supplies as soon as the war started, however there really wasn't a shortage of anything until 1916 when the unrestricted warfare of the German U-boats began causing true problems. The wealthy were able to purchase what they wanted on the black market, but the poor were quickly becoming undernourished. The government was able to add many essentials to the list of foods being rationed and true starvation for the masses was avoided although there were still many problems. In order to assist with the food shortages, around 3 million acres of green area was claimed by the government to be turned into farmland. This means that any garden space could be ordered to grow crops instead (hint for what may be happening at Misselthwaite) and as the men were gone it was primarily women who worked the land.

Mary joins the Voluntary Aid Detachment, a real group of mostly women who provided field nursing services. At the start of the war many of the VADs were women of the upper and middle classes and the military would not allow them on the front lines. Eventually the desperate need for more aid meant that regulations were changed to allow women over the age of 23 and with a minimum of 3 months experience to serve overseas. These volunteers worked in the field hospitals, drove ambulances, cooked and offered any aid they could. There was a great deal of tension between the VAD and military nursing groups at the beginning of the war as the VADs often had little real training and many were critical of the military doctors and nurses. Eventually the VAD was worked into the command structures and their aides were given more training, leading to a better working relationship with military personnel and better care given to the wounded. Many of the women of the VAD served with distinction and several famous VAD nurses were Agatha Christie, Amelia Earhart, and Enid Bagnold (author of National Velvet).

I have placed the hospital Mary and Dickon are at in the middle of the Somme Offensive, near the river Somme in France. The Battle of the Somme was fought between July 1 and November 18th of 1916 in a constantly shifting trench war between French and English allies against the Germans. More than 1 million men were wounded or killed during the 5 month offensive, making it one of the bloodiest battles in human history. Although the combined British and French troops were able to move the front 6 miles into German territory, the action was criticized by the Churchill and others for failing to achieve the actual goals that had been set and for the high rate of casualties.

Well that's what I've got for now. I didn't want to bore everyone with too much detail, but I at least wanted to give you some contextual background that was important to me as I wrote the story. Thanks for sticking with me thru this story and the reveal and action are coming up next.


	7. Chapter 6: Sunrise

_A shorter chapter this time, because I felt the moment at the end deserved a pause and I really couldn't think how to smoothly move to what I wanted next without overshadowing the emotions present. Enjoy._

A few days later, Dickon saw the sunrise one morning for the first time in three weeks. He had stood in the narrow window of the makeshift ward and watched in rapt attention as the sky lit up and the sunlight crept over the muddy ground. It wasn't his beloved moor but he still felt the need to just be outside again. He had talked to the aid on shift and she said that the soldiers in this ward were not on restriction currently so if they wanted to step outside to the small green area they were allowed. Dickon had quickly slipped out and had now spent most of the day sitting in the grass and just breathing in the air and the sunlight. His thoughts, as usual, strayed to the secret garden and to Colin and especially to Mary. Time flew as his mind wandered to happier times and it was hours before he looked around him to see that several other wounded soldiers had come outside to relax for a brief moment. Off to the side he could see a blonde head walking over to one of the soldiers and heard someone else call out "Hello Marie."

"Ah, her again," he thought. He had not really seen her since coming in to the ward two days ago. She had peeked her head in one morning to let the others know she wouldn't be in with them for a few days and from across the room his still healing eyes could only make out a blonde head. He had heard some men complaining that she had needed to assist in the surgery for a couple of days and so they had had to make do without their favorite angel. He wasn't sure if he wanted to meet her or not, he had a feeling it might be painful. With her golden hair and that laugh that reminded him so much of Mary he thought it might just make him more homesick to be around her. She would be a reminder of the woman he loved but could never be with. He saw her making her rounds to all the soldiers standing outside and could hear her laughing accent ringing across the small area as she asked them questions and chatted with them. He decided that he just couldn't bear to be around this teasing glimpse of what he truly wanted and so turned to head inside.

Before he could reach the door he was stopped by a man named Michael that he had talked with the day before. The two had spent time talking about their homes and Michael had been interested in hearing about the moors and how peaceful it could be.

"Ah, Dickon," he said limping over, "I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday. I really think I might like to see it when this blasted war is over."

"Tis the best place in the world," Dickon answered with a smile, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Marie was heading over to them as she walked to the door to go back inside.

"Aye, it sounds like it, so much cleaner and calmer than London. I think I'll need that if I ever get out of here." Michael paused as he grinned at the girl who had obviously walked up behind Dickon. "That is if the charming Marie will ever let me leave," he winked at Dickon, "she keeps changing my paperwork around so that the docs think I'm worse than I really am just so she can keep me around longer."

Dickon heard Marie laugh that laugh that both soothed and pained his soul and he resolved not to turn around and see a face that wouldn't be Mary's. Michael stepped past him to give the aid a smug grin and Dickon took a step closer to the door, wanting only to get away.

"What was that sound again," Michael stopped him with a question. "That sound you said the wind made over the moors?"

Dickon glanced behind him to answer Michael's question when he heard a soft voice say. "Wutherin."

"What?" Michael's gaze snapped to the girl standing between him and Dickon

"Over the moors, the wind wuthers." She answered, sounding as if she wasn't even aware that she was speaking out loud.

"Right, that was it," Michael grinned and turned and walked away.

Dickon was frozen to the spot, trying to think through her answer. "What would this French girl who lived in London know about the moors? And why had she not sounded French when she had answered?"

The girl in question gave her head a jerky shake as if she was trying to wake from a dream and then turned and walked into Dickon whom she hadn't realized was standing behind her.

His hands reached out and caught her arms as she stumbled and she glanced up with an embarrassed smile. Time froze.

He looked at her for the first time and saw beautiful features clearly set in the lines of the gentry, soft pink lips and sunny hazel eyes that spoke of an inner fire and will. His hands clenched on her upper arms as if trying to make sure she didn't simply disappear.

Her embarrassed smile slipped from her lips as she saw a handsome face with sky blue eyes, soft rusty hair that had been cut too short to show its curl, and a wonderful wide mouth that looked like it used to smile a lot. Even though he was thin and pale it was obvious that he had grown into his features and she could imagine many women, country and proper, would blush with pleasure at a glance from him. Even with all the changes, she knew him instantly. Her breath came in soft shallow gasps and she felt as if her knees were going to collapse.

"Dickon," she breathed in shock.

His hands clenched again when she said his name and he couldn't think of anything coherent, all he managed to get out was her name. "Mary."

"Oh Dickon," she cried and she broke free of his grip only to throw her arms around him. "Oh, you're alive, I've been so afraid. I've been out of contact with everyone for so long I was afraid I would miss any news of you." She broke off and hugged him tighter, "I've had such nightmares about you… I just can't believe… I was so afraid that…" She couldn't seem to finish any one of those thoughts fully but the desperation in her arms and her voice said it all.

Dickon himself was beyond words, he could only stand there and cling to the wonderful apparition in his arms, certain that it was a hallucination that would disappear if he so much as blinked.


End file.
